


worth more than gold

by halcyonskies



Series: 100Themes: Dean/Cas [55]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Historical Fantasy, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Pirate Dean, Pirates, Prostitute Castiel, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5051632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonskies/pseuds/halcyonskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel must content himself with what he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	worth more than gold

**Author's Note:**

> 100Themes Challenge - #7: Pirate

Bellamy Bay was only a small slip of a port town, hardly a pinkie finger on the great hand of land beyond. Most folks would agree that was a good thing, considering what the Bay was (in)famous for.

It had probably been an honest fishing village at some point, but now it was rife with the sins of humankind. Taverns and brothels aplenty, for the seamen coming in to dock for a few nights, and for the locals who had been around for what seemed like forever. It was said that the seedier underbelly of Bellamy was even more deplorable – some cited kidnappings, murders, or worse – but Castiel had lived here all his life, and he didn’t know if it was all _that_ bad.

His mother had been a whore at Mermaid’s Tail, a tavern that doubled as a brothel (and it was certainly more famous for its working men and women than for the tepid beer it served). She hadn’t exactly been proud of it, but she’d always said it was a sure way to support her children, all of whom were dead or lost now – except for Castiel, of course. He’d gone into the same profession, himself – though he worked the upper floor of The Green Scale, not Mermaid’s Tail.

Tonight was a busy night. A whole slew of ships had come in, all of them full of exhausted men who were more than ready for a warm body to lay with and a drink of anything that wasn’t grog. Judging by the look of a lot of the sailors, Castiel guessed some of those ships harbored a crew that were hardly in a legal line of work – but as long as they paid well and caused the least amount of trouble, nobody in Bellamy really cared where they came from or what they spent their days doing.

He had just finished with one patron – a grisly old man who’d made up for his lack of stamina with a tongue barbed to the nines – and was venturing downstairs to pick up another when a voice called out to him. Castiel froze, fingers clenching on the railing, hardly able to believe that this voice could belong to –

“Dean?” he whispered, trying to gauge whether the face was familiar in the weak light of the overhead lamps. Green eyes flashed, and Castiel’s heart began to pound against the cage of his ribs. He clutched the flimsy robe tighter about himself, all too aware of the stares of those near to him. All of a sudden, those stares seemed unwelcome, callous; all of a sudden, Castiel found himself wishing he and Dean were alone, so that only those eyes could rove freely over his body.

“How much for the rest of the night?” the other man purred, standing from his seat, abandoning his half-filled mug on the table.

“The same as it was last time,” Castiel replied, trying and failing to sound more confident than he was. Dean’s answering grin was boyish and _fond,_ too fond for a place like this, for what they were. But Castiel loved it, went as weak in the knees at seeing it as any of those heroines in the novels Meg claimed never to have read.

“Lead the way, then. I’ll be right behind you, Bright Eyes.”

Castiel felt so foolish for how he gasped then, but Dean always managed to make him feel this way, like they were two young lovers meeting under moonlight for the first time. He turned and hurried to a free room, knowing and hearing that Dean was close behind. The sound of the door falling closed behind them had hardly quieted before Castiel felt two strong arms wrap around his waist.

“You’re dressed differently,” Castiel commented idly, tilting his head obligingly so that Dean could pepper his throat with sweet, warm kisses. The vibration of the pirate’s chuckle against his neck made him shiver in delight.

“If they knew I was a captain, I’d never get a moment alone. Everyone expects me to have so much more to spend than the others.”

“You do.”

Dean laughed again, low, hands warm where they rested on Castiel’s hips. “And I don’t want to spend that coin on anyone else but you.”

Castiel stilled, melancholy slipping in around the temporary happiness of their meeting. Being with Dean made it so easy to forget that he was a whore, that he spread his legs for any man willing to pay for his company. He wasn’t ashamed of it, exactly, but he did wish things could be different. At times like these, he wished they could be the only ones for each other.

“Now, none of that,” Dean murmured, perhaps sensing the dark turn Castiel’s thoughts had taken. He was good at that, pirate though he was, good at seeing and remedying the hurt in Castiel’s heart. “We’ve got the whole night ahead of us, Cas.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, pushing aside his sadness. They went to the bed, and Castiel allowed Dean’s words and touches to take away the bittersweet dreams, if only for the night.


End file.
